


Inked in Spiders

by baskervilleain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dreaming, F/M, M/M, Nightmares, Season/Series 03, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:09:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1205587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baskervilleain/pseuds/baskervilleain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and his subconscious make one more deduction than he was expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inked in Spiders

The orange glow of the fire flickers across my face, casting transient shadows throughout the room. I watch the flames dance from where I lay on the sofa, incredibly warm. They are transfixing, capturing my gaze for an indefinite period of time. A minute movement at my side alerts me to the fact that I am not alone. 

John lies next to me on the sofa, tucked up against my side. I realize the source of heat is not the fireplace, but John. Strange. I don’t remember the sofa being wide enough for two people to lie side by side. This fact hardly seems relevant, though, so I ignore the incongruity. Gazing down at John’s familiar face, I run my hands through his hair, the affection in  
my chest overwhelming. I’ve always wanted to know what his hair feels like. Why don’t I do this more often?

We talk for a long time, about crimes and neighbors and who has to buy milk. The air smells of John and feels like home. Nothing has changed. Everything is perfect. Soft violin music drifts around us, played on an invisible instrument. I take John’s hand, inspecting the warm surface. Every bone has a label, tattooed in jet black ink. Phalanges, metacarpus,  
radius. Words are scrawled across my hands as well Interesting. 

A moment later they fade, our skin plain and unmarked once more. A strange disappointment passes through me, though I can’t imagine why. Every label is already catalogued in  
my mind. 

 

The door downstairs creaks open, a long, drawn-out, mournful sounds. The mysterious violin trails off, leaving echoes behind. I feel John tense beside me, and the scent of chlorine clogs my nostrils. 

Footsteps climb the stairs, and my panic rises with each creak of a wooden floorboard. 

A figure appears in the doorway.

 

Oh. It’s only Mary.

She looks at the two of us dispassionately, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that her husband is enveloped in me on the sofa, and sits in my armchair, crossing her right leg  
over her left. I turn my attention back to John, relaxing. 

 

Then movement in the corner of my eye jerks my gaze back to Mary. Something must be wrong, but what-  
There. A black mar on Mary’s face. A spider crawls out of the corner of her eye. Two more follow.

Seconds later, pitch black arachnids are streaming by the thousands from the empty shell where Mary had been sitting. They pour over the floor and walls and ceiling of the flat, inking everything in black, converging around me and John. I tug the smaller man close to my chest, desperate to keep a singer spider from reaching him. Across the room, fire from the hearth is igniting the teeming ranks of spiders, and the flames burst around us, incinerating everything.

 

I jerk awake. My heart is accelerated frantically in my chest, and I taste bile.

The scent of chlorine still lingers around me.

I look around. My bedroom is dark and cool. The flat is empty, devoid of John’s warmth. I remember he returned to his house with Mary after last night after my plane landed again. A warped, sickening melody of an Irish accent pounds in my ears.

Did you miss me? Did you miss me?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I just discovered that I love writing dream sequences. Apologies to everyone with arachnophobia out there... Also I cannot write long fanfictions so yeah I realize how short this is.


End file.
